


a spark in you (and a spark in me)

by softsocky



Series: socky shorts [10]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Band Fic, First Kiss, M/M, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softsocky/pseuds/softsocky
Summary: Sanha was growing up, but Rocky just wants everything to stay the same.





	a spark in you (and a spark in me)

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the Targus advertisments! Watch them, our baby Boy Sanha does so well!  
> [ version 1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1dnK_oRNkk)  
> [ version 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=atiM1MpexeQ)
> 
> title from Volunteer's 'The World is Ours'. Beautiful song, [listen to it here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKa7B2xaYeE)

Rocky didn’t know what to do with this new piece of information.

He knows that when he met Sanha – way back when he had crooked teeth and was complaining about the braces he had to get in the next few months; when he had dark, unshaped hair; and was generally a bit _awkward_ – that he was going to grow _older_. Rocky knew that the boy who had once been innocent and sweet looking would eventually begin to grow into his baby fat, and the gangly length of his limbs would begin to even out. His height would no longer be _strange_ but _attractive_ , and his features wouldn’t be _childish_ but _handsome_. Sanha was always handsome to Rocky, but right now, staring at the photos on his laptop screen, handsome didn’t seem to cut it.

The word itself just wasn’t _enough_. The string of letters didn’t hold enough value to what sat before him. Sanha was so much more than just handsome – smart, yes, hilarious, more so, but these _photos_ were _handsome_ and _pretty_ and everything in between and around. The photos had been sent to him by Sanha himself, captioned only with a question mark. A few months ago, _Targus_ had scouted him for a new collaboration shoot for their range of bags, and Sanha had been so anxious about it that he’d almost turned the offer down. The boys had pushed him, though, but right now, Rocky selfishly wished they hadn’t.

See, the new piece of information Rocky had discovered was that _he was extremely attracted to Yoon Sanha,_ and he just didn’t know what to do with himself because of it. A normal person would either push the feelings aside, and just compliment the damn boy; or they’d just swallow their pride and confess their feelings. But Rocky didn’t think of himself as that normal, and he was sure many would agree, but what is normal, anyway?

 

Normal, apparently, is not dropping a steaming hot bowl of ramen onto the living room floor at the sight of one’s bandmate on the television. The sight itself wouldn’t have been that uncommon had he been accompanied by the rest of said bandmates, but there Sanha was, alone, skateboarding and modelling for _Targus._ This time it wasn’t still life, though. These were real, proper advertisements that people were watching all across the country, online, and god knows where else. He was wearing a _beanie_ , something that made Rocky’s stomach twist, his hands weak, and ceramic bowl shatter on the floor.

He barely noticed the hot liquid seeping into the material of his socks, burning the soles of his feet. He didn’t notice because Sanha looked so mature and old and grown up, something Rocky knew had to happen at some point, but not _yet_. Not _yet,_ surely – it wasn’t time for this yet. He was _seventeen,_ nowhere near old enough to grow up this quickly, so suddenly, as though it had only happened overnight. Rocky feels like it was yesterday that they were teasing Sanha for his unavoidable lisp that came along with his braces, teasing him for his dungarees, his inability to control his flailing limbs.

Rocky feels like now – watching Sanha strum his guitar, stare over the water, doing whatever the hell he’s doing – that he isn’t even the same person. And that’s _ridiculous_ , because it’s still Sanha, the same boy as always. He just looked a little different, held himself with a little more confidence. Apparently, that was enough, though, to send him into a mental shutdown.

A slap to the back of his head drew his attention to the burning sensation wrapped around his toes, to the fluffy of bodies around him picking up chunks of the broken bowl. The TV advertisement had changed now, playing something about health insurance, and Rocky wondered how long he’d spaced out for. Eunwoo was shaking his head at him, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. He would’ve asked him to repeat himself had it not been for Sanha, standing in front of him now. His eyes were filled with curiosity and some form of hesitation that Rocky couldn’t quite place, but his cheeks were flushed a delicious shade of pink, and his now-straight teeth were gnawing on his bottom lip, and the whole image was enough to send Rocky into a giddy, drugged-like state.

For a flash, this Sanha – the one blushing in front of him – was the Sanha he had met all those years ago. Embarrassed and shy and awkward, and so damn _cute_ that it would turn Rocky to mush. But then it disappeared almost as quickly as it came, because Sanha’s blush was gone, and his eyes no longer confused.

He shoved Rocky’s shoulder playfully, “I _knew_ I’d leave you speechless one day!”

 

From then on, Rocky couldn’t get it out of his head. This new, recently-matured image of Sanha that didn’t make sense anymore. It was stuck in there, no matter how much he tried to remove it. He wanted his old Sanha back – the silly one, the one who’d scream at everything and anything remotely intimate or private or _adult._ It felt like only _months_ ago that Sanha had freaked out about their lips accidentally brushing together on _Starfruit_ , and Rocky actually feels sick to his stomach when he realises it _had been_.

It was three o’clock in the morning, and the dormitory was silent aside from the hum of the refrigerator and the tick of the vents overhead. Rocky hadn’t been able to sleep, something that happened from time to time, more so now that the boy he liked was sleeping only a few metres across from him. This attraction he felt for Sanha had most likely been bubbling away for years. When they’d first met, Rocky had experienced a similar feeling, brushed it aside as admiration for the boy’s talent, and forgot all about it. But now, with all of it resurfacing, Rocky’s mind was running a marathon at all times. He couldn’t concentrate, and when Sanha was in the same room as him, he didn’t even feel human anymore. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, something so beyond his control there was no way for him to _focus_.

And _Christ,_ Rocky felt like he was having his big gay freak-out all over again. He’d had one of those already, back when he thought he liked _Moon Bin_ of all people. Surely, you’re only entitled to _one_ freak-out?

The dorm was dark, all the lights off; the only source of light the sliver of the moon’s glow slicing through the blinds at strange angles, and the brightness of his phone screen. He was looking at the videos again, volume down low so not to wake anyone in the flat. The video was only a minute long, but he’d been standing against the kitchen bench for over an hour now, just hitting replay over and over again. It was nearing 4 am when he saw a droplet of water splash onto his screen. He jerked away a bit, lifting his fingers to his cheek.

He hadn’t realised he’d starting crying, and at first, he wasn’t quite sure _why._ He paused the video, locking the phone into darkness, clutching it to his chest as he cried soundlessly. He was playing games with himself. Of course, he knew why. He knew why he was crying because he always knew that Sanha was _it_ for him; he knew right from the moment they met, that he was entirely gone for him. He was crying because time was moving too fast, had already gone by so much faster than Rocky had ever anticipated, and now, he wasn’t sure to get it all back.

 

As weeks past, Rocky started to notice it more. The maturity of Sanha’s physical form, the way he had morphed from teenager to young adult, a transition so rapid it had given him a permanent case of whiplash. Not only had Sanha been scouted for more advertisements, but Rocky was starting to notice it in their performances, too. His voice had grown and evolved, and although his vocal range was more or less the same, his voice had dropped a few octaves. Rocky’s heart ached. He missed the boy he knew, the one he never got to have. He’d been so terrified of losing him as a friend, that he never even got the chance to enjoy his youthfulness. And now it was slipping through his fingers, like trying to collect water; pointless and impossible.

It was Eunwoo that put his fist down. He was observant enough to see the shift in his behaviour and attitude, but kind enough to not mention it until now. It was another sleepless night, one where Rocky found himself in the lounge room, scrolling through old twitter posts from their debut months. He didn’t hear Eunwoo enter the room, so when he felt a presence beside him on the couch, he jumped.

“Eunwoo!” His heart was hammering in his ears, “you scared the shit outta’ me!”

The older boy snorted. “I noticed,” there was a twinge of humour to his words, but there was something else there, too. “You’ve been distracted lately.”

It wasn’t a question, but rather a statement – so true, in fact, and so obvious, that there was no point in Rocky denying it. “Understatement of the century, I think,” he said lowly, shrugging.

Eunwoo sighed beside him, slipping closer to him on the couch so that their arms were touching. “Rock, what’s on your mind?”

Even in the low light, Rocky could see the genuine concern in Eunwoo’s eyes. Rocky was _tired_. He was tired of denying himself what he really wanted; tired of pretending he was tough and solid like a bloody _rock_ , and as emotionless as one, too. Rocky looked away from his eyes, unable to watch the flicker of pity in them as he spoke.

“It’s Sanha.” He paused, finding his words, trying think of how to string together a functioning sentence, one that made sense outside of his head. “You remember a few weeks back, when he did that Targus shoot?” Eunwoo nodded. “Well, I don’t know. Watching it just made me realise stuff.”

Eunwoo’s voice was calm, “you mean, your feelings for him?”

Rocky wasn’t surprised Eunwoo knew, he just hoped no one else suspected it. “Among other things.”

“Like?”

He wasn’t being pushy, just caring, curious, but it still made him nervous. He tangled his fingers together as he spoke. “Time is so _fickle._ We’re all told that, but we never realise it until we’re actually faced with its significance.” His nose felt runny, and his eyes were stinging a little. “Sanha made me realise how important time was. He’s grown up so _quickly_ , Hyung, and I can’t stop it. I can’t do anything about it, and now here is, a few years later, and it’s _too_ _late._ He’s not Baby Sanha.”

His bottom lip was trembling as he pushed back tears, and he refused to meet Eunwoo’s eyes in the darkness. “He’s not the baby anymore; he’s not the _cutie.”_

There was a silence, and then a soft chuckle. “Don’t let _him_ hear you say that.”

A new voice then, a “too late,” followed by a choked-up yelp from Eunwoo, and an ineloquent _shit_ from Rocky. He knew that voice without needing to see the face it’d come from, but he looked anyway. It was Sanha, because of course, it was. It was Sanha, his stupid bloody crush of two years, and he was just standing there with a little smirk on his lips that Rocky could only describe as _knowing_ and _cocky_ at the same time. Eunwoo was on his feet and out the door in an instant, not giving Rocky time to ask for support or assistance of any kind. _What a dick…_

Rocky’s _own_ eyes were still filled with tears, something Rocky hated to admit, but knew there was nothing he could do about it. Not with the way Sanha was walking over to him now, sitting down beside him on the couch. He kept a small distance between them, enough for another person, but it made Rocky feel worlds away.

“Rocky?” His voice was gentle, delicate. When Rocky didn’t respond – he didn’t have a tongue anymore, he’d run out of words, out of _letters_ \-  Sanha just shuffled a tiny bit closer to him, shrinking the gap.

“ _Rocky?_ ” More silence, another shuffle. Each time Sanha would say his name, and each time Rocky didn’t respond, Sanha would move closer and closer to him, until, finally, _finally_ , the two worlds were right beside each other – not _together_ , not _one_ like he wanted _,_ but flush.

Sanha reached his hand out, jabbed his index finger into his cheek. Rocky blushed, glad Sanha couldn’t see it in the darkness. “Park _Minhyuk._ ”

Rocky sighed, meeting his eyes, _giving in_. “Yes, Sanha?”

Sanha turned his head to the side slightly, smirking, eyes giddy. “You have feelings for me?” Rocky hated this moment. Sanha’s words sounded like a question, something that Rocky couldn’t leave unanswered, but his palms were sweating and the foul weight of anxiety was pressing on his chest like an invisible hand. He felt breathless and weak but _warm,_ and he realised it wasn’t anxiety, but the affect Sanha just had on him. Rocky couldn’t find his tongue again, so he nodded, felt the temperature of his cheeks dial up another notch.

Sanha tucked his chin, letting out a tiny noise Rocky wasn’t sure he’d actually heard. It was somewhere between a giggle and a whine, and it made his heart bloom. “For how long?”

The way his eyes bore into his, and the way one of his hands moved to rest on his knee, should have plunged him further into speechlessness – but instead, it conjured up words from the back of his throat like magic. “Since the start, I think.”

Sanha nodded, letting out the same noise as before, but louder and longer, and Rocky recognised it as one of his squeals of embarrassment. He loved that sound; it was one of the earlier day sounds, before his debut, and into the first few months of their first album. Then it was Sanha’s turn to plunge into speechlessness. After his squeal, no more words were said, but his hand moved to his other knee, and he pulled, as if to turn his body further towards him.

Rocky behaved, twisted and faced the younger boy. And then, suddenly, _finally, finally,_ the two worlds collided, and the lips that weren’t anywhere near his were finally _on_ his, the hands that weren’t tangled with his own were gripping him tight, the boy he couldn’t call _his_ was finally in his arms.

As Sanha kissed him – lots of short, chaste kisses pressing over and over – he let out these little breathy whimpers and ran his hands through his hair. Rocky was so distracted by the feeling of his lips coming and going, and for a moment, it reminded him of Sanha himself. He was there and then the next minute he wasn’t – he was his innocent baby and then he _wasn’t_. And Rocky hated that.

When Sanha leant forward again, intending for a short kiss, Rocky gripped the back of his head, not allowing him to move away. Sanha squealed into his mouth, and Rocky used it to his advantage, used his tongue to taste the maturity and knowledge that lay within him, to feel the grooves of his advancing age and the flavour of his rapidly approaching adulthood – but most of all, the taste that stood out most, was a taste just so simply _Sanha._

 

The time from their pre-debut up until now, Rocky had this idea in his head that Sanha had changed as person in synchronisation to his physical appearance. How wrong he had been. He had never got to taste Sanha’s flavour those years ago, but he was sure it tasted the same as it did now – sunshine and candyfloss and innocence with a sprinkling of rude immaturity and an occasional dash of explicit language. He was still the same Sanha, just a little less gangly, but just as awkward.

That much was obvious as he watched his boyfriend in the behind-the-scenes video of the Targus advertisement shoot, the video that had sparked his whole breakdown those months ago. He could feel Sanha watching him, gauging his reaction. Rocky just bit his bottom lip the whole time he watched it, because the video he’d watched so many times before was this construction of Sanha that he’d formulated in his head. This new video, this one right now, that was the Sanha he loved.

There was a montage of the amount of times Sanha had tripped or fallen over, or walked into something he shouldn’t have; his uncomfortable facial expressions due to his sub-par acting skills; and his general awkwardness that radiated so obviously to him now.

He realised, when the video came to a close, that time had passed. Sanha had matured, his face had become more handsome and more angular, and he looked less childish and more young-adult-ish. _God_ , _I love this boy_ , he thought, as he hit replay on the video. He watched it again, and again, and each time he pressed replay, Sanha would groan in his hear in humiliation. He watched it one final time before turning to his boyfriend. His cheeks were unbelievably red, hiding his face with his hands. Rocky grabbed his wrists, tugging them away so he could press a kiss to his lips.

Sanha was a lot of things – handsome and sweet and pure and kind.

But _wow,_ Rocky was an idiot.

How could he ever think his baby wasn’t the cutie anymore?

**Author's Note:**

> You know what I've noticed? I start lots of my sentences with 'But' which I remember learning in school as a big no-no. Also, nearly all my characters are blushing 90% of the time.


End file.
